


The Vinciguerra-Boyanov Affair

by rainedparade



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: Bad Ending, F/F, Mild Crossover, Revenge, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainedparade/pseuds/rainedparade
Summary: After Susan is captured, a desperate Nancy unwittingly goes to Rayna for help.





	The Vinciguerra-Boyanov Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoundandColor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/gifts).



> The name Vinciguerra (along with the family and said facilities) is taken from The Man from UNCLE but it's not integral to the plot (or what passes for one here .___.) so no knowledge of said movie is necessary.
> 
> Dear sound&color -- I really hope you're in the mood for bad ending!fic. /nervous laughter It's not really whump!fic, I don't think, but there's some psychological nastiness and it's a story where the bad guy (Rayna) wins and gets off scot free so... happy holidays, basically! OTL OTL OTL

1.

Nancy stood before the cell door and took a deep breath. Their previous meetings had been short and perfunctory; she doubted she existed in Rayna Boyanov's memory outside of, perhaps, Amber Valentine's secretary.

Then she knocked and, after a couple tense seconds of unresponsiveness, slid in her card key.

Rayna Boyanov was lounging against some modified leather armchair. She possessed a grace that would have made lazing about in a recliner elegant and seemed utterly unaffected by her captivity. Indeed, were it not for the bars on the window and the one-way lock on the door, one might have mistook her cell to be the penthouse suite at the Sheraton.

Nancy swallowed the image of her own apartment -- a dingey thing tucked away in the middle of two dead-end alleys (the logistical nightmare that was downtown DC never ceased to amaze) -- and started her spiel.

"Miss Boyanov, we need your help. There's been an incident with an agent out on the field, a series of incidents in fact, and intelligence reports that the perpetrator is an old schoolmate of yours. I understand that this is an unusual -- "

Her mile-a-minute stammering was halted when Rayna lifted a hand.

"God, shut up for a second," the incarcerated arms industry heiress sighed, massaging her temples and sitting up. She turned at last from the window to Nancy, frowning. "Who are you? Who sent you? What is this all about?"

"I'm Nancy. Nancy Artingstall. CIA."

"CIA, eh?" Rayna arched an eyebrow. "Couldn't make the cut for MI6?"

"It's about Susan," Nancy blurted out. "We've lost contact with her. Missing, possibly dead." She had rehearsed this a dozen times before the mirror, but it all went to pieces. Crocker had told her -- twice -- not to mention Susan at all; there was every chance Rayna nursed a grudge despite their banter.

The air seemed to crackle when Nancy said the name. She spoke at length until the words seemed to fizzle out and she trailed off with the facts of the story but half-told.

Rayna pursed her lips. Her expression was placid, as if she had just been informed of the next day's weather.

And then, at last, she spoke.

"I want to talk to my lawyer."

-

2.

The terms they negotiated -- if it could even be called a negotiation; Nancy was desperate (what else would she have been, to have gone to _Rayna Boyanov_ for help??) and it wasn't as if the CIA had a dozen barristers for international law on call, not when all of the funding was being spent on ridiculously expensive gadgets that couldn't even keep their damn agents safe -- were pitiable to say the least. Rayna's lawyer had a wall of certificates and a shelf of hung juries. This was a man who had fought the law and come out on top in most cases.

Nancy was dizzy with dread, with fear. Crocker valued her agents but disposed of them with cutting precision. Nancy had watched -- with Susan, back in the day when they were both stuck in the cellar -- as Karen Walker had risen through the ranks. Crocker had loved her as a daughter, seemingly, but only shrugged and said "that's that" upon hearing of her duplicity and then death. She could already imagine Crocker's careless shrug when receiving photos of Susan's body -- washed-up and wrung-out, likely with evidence of torture -- and going "that's that" as well.

She would have said yes to anything. It just so happened that Rayna wanted a pardon and absolute immunity for what was to come.

Nancy was a fool.

-

3.

Intelligence reports correctly stated that Valentina Vinciguerra was an old schoolmate of Rayna's. They were close: two girls of roughly the same age stuck in the same boarding school, both from arms dealing families.

What was lesser-known fact, certainly not common enough knowledge to be disseminated on a CIA file, was the former's idolatry of the latter.

"Rayna," Valentina beamed, stepping out onto the helipad, despite the discontent of her squadron of bodyguards. "Rayna, how long it's been."

"Valentina," Rayna raised her hand, allowing the other woman to kiss it, before taking her face and kissing both cheeks, "You look well."

Valentina flushed, clasping her old classmate's hands.

"Your praise is still the sweetest," she murmured, ducking her head.

Rayna looked her up and down and then nodded in approval before walking towards the main building. The Vinciguerra guards parted like the Red Sea, with Valentine herself trailing behind.

Truly, it was as if they were back in that girls' boarding school on the French Riviera all over again.

-

4.

Rayna spent the next three days sorting through affairs, her own, her father's, a bit of Valentine's and a bit of the Vinciguerra's, before deigning it appropriate to pay their captive a visit.

She had dressed up for the occasion, though there was little point. Susan Cooper has been gagged and blindfolded since her capture three and a half weeks prior and was subsequently in no condition to escape, much less appreciate Rayna's ballroom gown.

Nonetheless, it would be their grand reunion -- and her triumphant return -- so she dressed accordingly.

"Amber Valentine, was it?" she asked, dismissing the bodyguard with a wave of her hand. It was the two of them in a relatively spacious cell. There was sunlight and fresh air and though it couldn't compare to her alcove in that American prison, it was a great deal better than the dungeon she and Bradley had thrown Susan into the first time around.

"Poor thing, putting up such a fuss about food." Rayna simpered, as Susan fought against her restraints. The click-clack of her heels echoed against the marble floor and she stooped down, taking the other woman's chin in one hand. "Valentina tells me that they've had to stick you to the IV since."

And then: "No, don't struggle. There's no sense in that."

She leaned in close so that she could whisper in Susan's ear: "Poor little Susan Cooper. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself: why is Rayna here? Shouldn't she be on Alcatraz or some other domestic hellhole?" She chuckled, combing her fingers through ragged ratty hair. "Well, Susan love, it's the other way around. You're here because I'm here."

There was a string of muffled sounds from the gag, but Rayna was not yet done. Oh no, she had come to gloat, so gloat she would. In boarding school too, there were meaner girls and smarter girls and girls from wealthier families. But she got the last laugh in the end. She always did.

"Wait, my dear. It gets better. Your dear friend, the one with the long neck and awful choice in wardrobe -- worse than your own, which I hadn't thought possible -- was so desperate to save you, she called on me _of her own accord_. Really, it worked out better than I thought; I figured I could rely on old Albright to break me out with his legalese but," and she laughed here, pleased with the neatness of it all, "With those terms? I might as well have done nothing at all."

And then, to sweeten the story:

"Now I know, according to your James Bond fairytales, that I, as the evil villain, should reveal to you my plan and give you precisely so and so hours to break out. But I won't do that because I have no intention of being locked up in that dreadful dingy room again. But I will tell you this: if you don't get out in the next twenty-four hours, you'll be here for the rest of your life."

She leaned over and kissed Susan's cheek -- terribly pale and a bit chilly, despite the climate control of the room. Susan was breathing steadily, her shoulders rising and falling with her thoughts. She was likely counting down the minutes, racing through what she remembered of the room and the complex. It was a desperation Rayna knew full well, having spent countless hours on the same pointless endeavor in her cell. She smiled and stood, blowing her captive a kiss before exiting the room.

-

5.

Like all effective villains, Rayna had lied.

The plans for escape and extradition had been set in place days ago. An hour after her visit, Susan would be injected with a strong narcotic and taken aboard the Vinciguerra's submarine. Then the private island would be blown to bits and made to sink into the Mediterranean.

Reports would surface, days perhaps even weeks later, of an experiment gone wrong. There would be an undercurrent in the closed official channels of her own involvement in the mess. Naturally, she and Valentina -- along with Susan and the staff of the island -- would be declared lost, presumed dead.

Valentina came to her shortly after.

"It is ready," she murmured, placing a kill switch in Rayna's hand.

"What is the range of the switch?"

"Four knots, roughly."

"Lovely." She opened the communications' channel and told the sub captain to submerge. Half an hour later, when they were three knots from the island, Rayna pressed the switch. She closed her eyes, leaning against the plush chair, and imagined she could hear the sound of five thousand tonnes of TNT going off, all at once.

"You're smiling," Valentina noted. Her expression was at once fervent and affectionate. She reached out and touched Rayna's cheek. "Why is that?"

Rayna smiled and clasped her hand against her old schoolmate's. "I've been thinking of keeping a pet. What are your thoughts on this?"

Valentina blinked. "A pet? Not a big one, I hope."

"Oh no," Rayna grinned, "Entirely manageable, I assure you."

"Of course," Valentina smiled too, "Whatever pleases you, Rayna."

"Mm," she patted the other woman's cheek in turn, "I'm partial to the name Susan."


End file.
